A little before nine o'clock, I prevailed on Mr. Blake to accompany me
to his bedroom; stating, as a reason, that I wished him to look round
it, for the last time, in order to make quite sure that nothing had been
forgotten in the refurnishing of the room. I had previously arranged
with Betteredge, that the bedchamber prepared for Mr. Bruff should
be the next room to Mr. Blake's, and that I should be informed of the
lawyer's arrival by a knock at the door. Five minutes after the clock in
the hall had struck nine, I heard the knock; and, going out immediately,
met Mr. Bruff in the corridor.

My personal appearance (as usual) told against me. Mr. Bruff's distrust
looked at me plainly enough out of Mr. Bruff's eyes. Being well used
to producing this effect on strangers, I did not hesitate a moment in
saying what I wanted to say, before the lawyer found his way into Mr.
Blake's room.

"You have travelled here, I believe, in company with Mrs. Merridew and
Miss Verinder?" I said.

"Yes," answered Mr. Bruff, as drily as might be.

"Miss Verinder has probably told you, that I wish her presence in the
house (and Mrs. Merridew's presence of course) to be kept a secret from
Mr. Blake, until my experiment on him has been tried first?"

"I know that I am to hold my tongue, sir!" said Mr. Bruff, impatiently.
"Being habitually silent on the subject of human folly, I am all the
readier to keep my lips closed on this occasion. Does that satisfy you?"

I bowed, and left Betteredge to show him to his room. Betteredge gave
me one look at parting, which said, as if in so many words, "You have
caught a Tartar, Mr. Jennings--and the name of him is Bruff."

It was next necessary to get the meeting over with the two ladies. I
descended the stairs--a little nervously, I confess--on my way to Miss
Verinder's sitting-room.

The gardener's wife (charged with looking after the accommodation of the
ladies) met me in the first-floor corridor. This excellent woman
treats me with an excessive civility which is plainly the offspring of
down-right terror. She stares, trembles, and curtseys, whenever I speak
to her. On my asking for Miss Verinder, she stared, trembled, and would
no doubt have curtseyed next, if Miss Verinder herself had not cut that
ceremony short, by suddenly opening her sitting-room door.

"Is that Mr. Jennings?" she asked.

Before I could answer, she came out eagerly to speak to me in the
corridor. We met under the light of